Contemplation
by pharo
Summary: Tess POV on her actions.


Contemplation ****

Contemplation

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and the WB.

Summary: Tess POV on her actions. 

Feedback: [pharo@onebox.com][1]

I'd never thought I'd be a murderer. But then again, who goes through life thinking they will? Besides, I didn't think I'd see a lot of things that I actually have seen. People would think that I'd lost it if I told them all I've experienced. Hell, sometimes I think that there are a couple of screws loose up there. At times, I still don't believe that all I've seen is real. Those are the times that I feel sane, normal, one of the crowd. But then I look around at all of you and see the same expression mirrored in your faces, realizing that it has to be real because all of us wouldn't be thinking the same thing if it weren't.  
  
So, I come to terms with the reality of it all. And when I realize this, I remember him and how he's not here anymore and remember that it's because of me. That is when the tears well up in my eyes and I burst out crying. That's when I remember the life he had ahead of him. And when I think of all that, I think of myself, how I killed him, and then cried among you. You all might feel that I was not sincere, but I was.

It probably makes you sick to your stomachs when you think of how someone could just take the life of another and then pretend everything was alright, pretend to be clueless as to who did it. I tried to put on such a façade, but eventually, time and everything else caught up with me. I can't live with myself anymore, at least not after knowing what I've done.

I'm not human, so why do I feel these emotions? I guess those who engineered us were really good. They gave us the ability to feel and comprehend human life. I understand these emotions that hold people back. I feel the guilt, the sorrow, and the ache. I feel all the pain; everything you all feel times ten.

I did it, so that we could go back home. I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident…I know it sounds horrible, doesn't it? But I'm telling you the truth. It might seem like it, but I didn't think of him as a pawn. Sure, we weren't the best of friends, but I thought of him as this…this great guy that had a lot of great things ahead of him. I didn't want to ruin his life, but I needed him to save mine. 

Now that I've done what I have done…Jeez, I can't even bring myself to say it…His voice haunts me. I sit there and cry all night as I am left to listen to all of your cries and all of my gut-wrenching thoughts.

I need help. I need to get away from this place, from these thoughts, and from myself. Not that it would be a really big loss to any of you. I was always on the outside, mostly because I made it that way. I wanted to stay strong and be able to detach myself from all of you when necessary.

I couldn't stand this planet…the way it made me think and feel. I wasn't made to feel…wasn't allowed to feel. The person this planet was molding me into; I couldn't afford to be that person. I couldn't make myself vulnerable to all the pain that was waiting to attack me. I had to go home, so I could feel like myself.

It's ironic, though. Killing him has made me feel everything I was trying to run from…it made me feel human, which is probably the scariest thing in the world. 

I don't like feeling all this anguish. I don't mind going through life, remembering people, but I don't want emotions. I don't want to feel for them or feel for the things that I've done with them. I want to be numb, incapable of experiencing emotions. 

And as I think of this, I realize that everyone tries not to feel at times. I tried not to feel love, you all tried not to feel hate for me, and we all tried very hard, but we end up feeling it anyway. All the time I spend trying to close myself off, small parts of my soul open up to each and every one of you.

But, that's all over now. I stare at the ceiling late at night, looking for a way to regain my sanity. I try to forget all the pain in his voice that night. I try not to think of what I've done or what I've deprived the world of. I try to bury the pain somewhere deep in recesses of my soul, but it emerges once again. I try, but nothing changes.

I want to be put out of my misery. I'd ask one of you to do it, but I know that none of you would. Be it for the reason that you want me to suffer or because you just can't bring yourselves to kill another, no matter what horrible things that person has done. Either way, even if I begged and pleaded and cried for one of you to end my life, I know none of you would. Hell, I don't even know if I can do it to myself. It's weird how I can kill others, but not myself, the person who deserves to die; I know I do. 

I don't want to have to see the looks on your faces when I return home. I don't want to see the fear, the sorrow, and the hatred. It would hurt too much. I don't want all of you to wonder if I'll kill one of you next. I don't want to see the hurt of betrayal in your faces. I don't want to see any of it. It'll haunt me like his face does. I want to remember your faces the way they were before all of this…back when everyone was happy.

I can run away from Roswell, run until I can't run anymore, but it won't make a difference. I'll still have killed him. His voice, his face, everything would still linger, recurring in my mind, over and over again. I can't have that. I can't go home, either. They'll kill me if I don't bring back the Royal Four, or at least the leader. 

I can't live with this type of pain, so the choice is pretty simple. Maybe, it won't be that bad. It might not even hurt, or at most it'll hurt for like a second. It'll be worth it; I'll stop your pain…and mine. 

Don't feel bad for my actions. Everything I've ever done was entirely my fault. I blame no one, so you shouldn't either. In fact, I thank all of you for trying to help me out. The most memorable moments I've ever had have been with all of you. If not anything, you've made my life better. Because of all of you, maybe I'll be a better person in my next life. 

   [1]: mailto:pharo@onebox.com



End file.
